


Those Who Can Manage Change

by still_lycoris



Category: X-Men: Apocalypse (2016) - Fandom
Genre: Body Horror, Dark, Gen, Pre-Canon, trick - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2020-12-14 12:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21015608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: The first time En Sabah Nur changed his body, it was a happy accident.





	Those Who Can Manage Change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iberiandoctor (Jehane)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jehane/gifts).

En Sabah Nur barely remembered the first time.

It was accidental really. The man was trying to kill him – well, succeeding in killing him, in a way. Killing his first body. He felt the stab in his belly and knew it would be fatal, knew that he had finally been defeated and the sheer rage that followed that knowledge was overwhelming. No. No, he was better than them better than all of them, his powers were greater and he _would not die!_

And so he did not.

It was painful, excruciatingly so. He did not remember much afterwards, not for a long time. He must have found himself a hole to crawl into, perhaps even dug it himself in his delirium, for that was where he woke; concealed beneath the sand, confused and sore and trembling, his skin still blue and yet his shape all wrong. Slowly, he realised what had happened. What he had done.

That first time, he was shocked, almost fearful. To invade another, to destroy their essence – and that was what he had done, he was sure for they did not remain but their body did so where else could they have gone? – that was a power that even he had not expected to have and not one that he could be as proud of when compared to his other skills. The memories of the original was still there, in part. They were fragmented, confused and he could barely make sense of most of it but he knew that when he had taken their body, they had been afraid, so afraid that they had shattered. He had not meant to do it. It had been instinct, sheer need and he had acted on that. 

The new body was not unpleasant, though. It was not quite as strong as his old body had been but put muscle on easily when he began to exercise. The arms were slightly longer, the left leg no longer ached from a childhood tumble that had never healed quite right.

He had renewed himself. He had been made whole again.

The second was more of an experiment, to see if it could be done another time. He knew, of course, that it was terrible, that it was not something that should be done casually – but he wanted to know. When he had taken this first new body, he had learned new skills, kept different bits. What would happen if he took someone with other powers? Would their powers remain in him? Would he become even stronger than before?

He prepared, that time. He had followers by then, proper followers who believed in him and his glory. His rule was spreading, his power known. Others with power responded to him, either by coming close or pulling away – but he knew that they existed then, whichever they chose and could act accordingly.

It was very different that second time. He made sure that he was in a protected place, that both he and his target – a man who had committed a crime, who was young and strong but likely to be executed anyway – were relaxed and safe. Of course, the target did not know what he was, not until the transfer had already begun. In a strange way, the relaxation made it far harder. There was no desperation, no adrenaline and the man struggled, trying to block En Sabah Nur from him. He realised that there was a horrifying possibility that he could become stuck neither in one body or the other; a strange, formless being with just enough awareness to know that he was doomed for eternity.

That was enough to give him the final push and take the body for his own.

He had been correct. He kept the powers. Kept too, the knowledge of how to use that power so he did not become a child struggling with a new skill again. The mind was far more intact this time, which was vaguely troubling at first. It was not exactly conscious but it interfered a little. He found himself thinking of things that he had not thought before. Memories that were not his entered is mind and stayed there, strange and distracting, if he let them be. But he supposed that it was a sacrifice worth the making. He was, after all, still himself and he was the strongest. He could ignore trifles like this for the greater good.

His world grew, his followers too. He ruled them firmly, looking only for the strongest. He discovered that his own strength could enhance theirs; make their powers stronger, better – even, on occasion, create powers where there had been none. He ceased to experiment with that swiftly – it usually left them unstable and they always died young. He had no interest in killing for killing’s sake, only in enhancing the world, making it a place for the strong and powerful.

The third time was similar to the first, except that he was not alone. A foolish rebellion, trying to crush him and his. He defeated them, of course, but he was injured and he knew that it would kill him. One of his followers stepped to his side, offered themselves and En Sabah Nur accepted. It was easier when the body and mind was entirely willing and that let him practise a little. He tested how much he could stretch out, how long the process actually took, how much of the mind remained if he was gentle as he fed himself through, leaving the dying body behind him. He realised that the mind could be left almost entirely there, there but helpless. His follower could not control his own body any longer. Could not choose, could only think. They had no body. They were not strong enough to cope with that. No one but him could be strong enough to cope with that.

The fourth one he took to end the screaming of the third.

The fifth one, he took because powerful as he was, even he could not control time. The body aged – perhaps more slowly than it did for normal mortals but it did and En Sabah Nur allowed it because there was wisdom in age. Besides, he no longer needed to fight. His four Horsemen stood around him and that was what they lived for. When he told them that he needed a new body, they hunted and searched until they found a perfect youth and then stood loyally around him as the transfer was completed.

It was a struggle that time in a way that he had not anticipated. He had assumed his powers were infinite, that they would all travel with him every time but he had been wrong. Whatever you named the skill that he had to move all of his being into other bodies, it was beginning to become harder. When he sought it within himself, it felt weak, frail. It was a push to take this fifth one and he knew that if he were not careful, he would lose the skill forever. 

But he _was_ careful. He had always been so.

By the time he required a sixth change, he had worked out how to enhance the dwindling power. He and his Horsemen together had created the chamber in his own pyramid; designed it perfectly in every way. The tables that would allow the transference unhindered, the sun that would provide the energy that he, by himself, would not always be able to do. The words of power that only a God such as him could use.

But it limited him and he knew it. When he took the seventh body, he found that he was entirely helpless during the procedure. It worked – it worked more smoothly than it had ever done before – but he was almost a passenger in the process, a soul to be channelled to another vessel without control or choice. 

It was a limitation that he could bear. After all, he never need doubt the loyalty of his Horsemen. They would always protect him until the transfer was complete and every time, he would be more powerful than he had been before and more capable of changing the world into what he knew it ought to be.

It was then that he stopped counting.


End file.
